


One Shots

by purplepie



Series: The Teddy Bears' Picnic [4]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplepie/pseuds/purplepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of short one-shots to accompany my Teddy Bears' Picnic series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coney Island

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Dweebball on Tumblr! Hope this is everything you'd hoped for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For timeline purposes, this is set not long after the events of Teddy Bears’ Picnic, and before Ends and Beginnings.

It felt strange going back to the arcade with Tyrell. For Elliot the place represented the end, but also the beginning, of so many things. 

He’d told himself (and Tyrell) that they were going back purely to make sure that all the evidence had been completely destroyed. If he was honest with himself however, a small part of him was driven by sentimentality. He just wanted to see the place one last time. 

So that was how they ended up on Coney Island on a cold but sunny Thursday afternoon. Elliot let them both into the arcade and powered on the lights. They looked around in silence. Elliot felt a strange sense of nostalgia as he looked at the popcorn machine, the faint smell of warm butter still lingering in the air. 

Elliot wondered how much Tyrell actually knew about f society. Elliot knew Tyrell didn't believe he'd been working alone. For a start, at the very least he knew that Darlene was involved somehow. It still bothered Elliot to know that Tyrell had met Darlene at some point, and he had no idea when, or how. He had a feeling Tyrell knew a lot more about many things than he was letting on, but played dumb as a way of fishing for more information. He was good at manipulation and it would serve Elliot well not to forget that.

He trusted Tyrell, but as the madness of recent events died down, he felt little worries niggling at him. For the most part he tried to ignore them, reasoning that the Tyrell he knew now was a much different person than the man he'd first met. They were happy, and after everything that had happened, they both deserved to be, so Elliot focused on that.

Taking one last look over his office, he sighed. The arcade held so many memories, both good and bad. And many more that Elliot had no doubt forgotten. But that was all before. The world was different now. *He* was different now. He vowed not to dwell on the thoughts that crept into his mind as he lay awake at night. The thoughts that made his skin crawl, and his stomach clench. 

Locking the door for the final time felt symbolic, almost ceremonial. The key hung heavy in his hand, and he was hyper-aware of the sensation of the metal against his clammy skin. As he heard the final click of the lock he felt sad yet liberated at the same time.

Sensing something was wrong Tyrell looked over to him and asked, ‘What are you thinking about?’

Elliot didn’t even know where to begin. All he knew was he didn’t want to think about anything anymore, he wanted to do something. He wanted one last happy moment on Coney Island, and he wanted it to be with Tyrell.

‘Let’s go on the ferris wheel,’ he blurted.

Tyrell looked uncertain, and he frowned at Elliot. ‘Really?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Elliot smiled, grabbing Tyrell’s hand and dragging him forward like a child would their parent. 

Tyrell laughed, but as they got closer to the ferris wheel he started to look uncertain again.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Please?’

Tyrell could see this was important to Elliot, so reluctantly agreed. But as they took their seat in the rickety wire carriage he began to feel nervous. He smiled at Elliot, but as they started to move he gripped the seat with a white-knuckled hand. Elliot seemed happy, and for the most part unaware of his discomfort, so he continued to try to school his features into some sort of semblance of calm. Enjoyment might be pushing it, but calm he could manage.

At the top however, he felt he breath hitch, and then the overwhelming desire to shut his eyes as they began their descent. The carriage swayed unpleasantly, and the crashing and screeching of metal filled his ears. He turned away to hide his face, hoping he could pretend to be looking at the view.

He thought he was going to get away with it until he felt Elliot’s arm around him. Elliot placed a gentle hand on his chin, and slowly turned him so they were resting forehead to forehead. He leaned up to place a tender kiss on Tyrell’s lips. It felt wonderful, and ordinarily Tyrell would have pulled Elliot even closer, and moved to deepen the kiss, but their carriage had reached the top again and Tyrell felt the familiar unpleasant swoop of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and couldn’t stop the sharp gasp of breath he drew in.

This time it didn’t go unnoticed by Elliot. ‘What’s wrong?’ He asked.

Tyrell flushed with embarrassment, and kept his eyes squeezed shut as he replied, ‘I’m not very good with heights.’

Elliot couldn’t help but laugh, despite feeling a bit mean for doing so. 

‘Oh babe, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I knew this would make you happy. And I vastly overestimated my own bravery.’

Elliot laughed again, but this time he was genuinely touched. He stroked Tyrell’s cheek and smiled at him.

By his reckoning they had another couple of turns to go and he wanted to help Tyrell enjoy them (or at least stop him wanting to throw up quite as much), so he pulled him even closer, resting a hand in his hair. 

He pressed a soft kiss to Tyrell’s cheek, and squeezed his thigh comfortingly with his other hand.

For the rest of the ride Elliot whispered promises in his ear. All the things he was going to do later to make it up to him (and how cute he found the resulting blush that spread across Tyrell’s cheeks). 

All the things he loved about him. 

All the things he looked forward to, and his hopes for the future they would share.

When they finally got off Tyrell tried his best to disguise his wobbling legs, all the while sending a silent thank you to his stomach for not betraying him.

Despite his skittering heartbeat, and the sweat that was starting to cool unpleasantly on the back of his neck, he couldn't help but smile at the warmth that flooded through him as he remembered Elliot's words.

All-in-all, he was forced to admit that although Ferris wheels were generally a horrifying experience he never wished to repeat, perhaps this one hadn't been so bad.


	2. Meeting the baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot meets Otto for the first time. 
> 
> Set a few weeks after Teddy Bears' Picnic, but before Ends and Beginnings.

Elliot could feel the anxiety spreading through him. He wanted to be calm for Tyrell, but he couldn’t help it, he was just so nervous. He paced up and down, drummed his fingers on every surface, and couldn’t focus on a word of what Tyrell was saying to him.

‘…Elliot? Are you listening?’

He blinked up at Tyrell. ‘Um… what?’

Tyrell laughed softly, bringing his arms around Elliot’s waist.

‘Darling, what are you so worried about?’

Elliot had no idea, really. Things had been going so well with Tyrell. He’d been spending time with Otto, and Elliot could see how happy it made him. Every time he came back from visiting his son, he’d have a smile on his face that just wouldn’t fade. He’d sing absentmindedly to himself as he cooked, and he’d make Elliot laugh with silly jokes. After the difficult start to their relationship, Elliot was glad to see this lighter side of him. 

Up until now, that part of Tyrell’s life was separate to theirs. Tyrell was Elliot’s boyfriend, and he was a father, but those parts of his life never crossed.   
But now, as they waited for Joanna to drop Otto off at Elliot’s apartment, it felt like their lives were about to change again. And what was Elliot’s role going to be in all of this? He knew it meant a lot to Tyrell that he meet Otto. He was more than happy to be involved, but the idea of any sort of label… oh God, stepdad?

It was moments like this that reminded Elliot of how different they were. While there was only an age gap of a few years, Tyrell had lived a startlingly different life to him. He had a child, an expensive car, and owned more than one suit. He didn’t wear hoodies, live off take-out and have nothing but a grotty apartment to his name. 

He wasn’t intimidated by Tyrell or his wealth, but they definitely shone a light on how much of a shambles his own life was. It wasn’t that long ago he’d had an actual, serious drug problem. Tyrell trusted him, and knew that he was clean, but there was a large part of Elliot that didn’t feel like he should be allowed to spend time with a baby.   
They hadn’t been together that long either, so there was that to think about too. Quite honestly, it all made Elliot’s head spin and he was thankful when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

…

Otto was the spitting image of his father, with the same soft features and big clear blue eyes. Elliot had seen photos, obviously, but the resemblance was even more striking in person. 

‘Beautiful.’ That was the only thought Elliot had as he quietly observed the two of them together. The older man beamed as he looked down at his son, holding him close to his body, and gently rocking him from side to side. He placed a soft kiss on the top of Otto’s fuzzy blonde head and sang to him quietly. It was a Swedish song, and Elliot thought it was pretty, even though he couldn’t understand the words. He loved Tyrell’s singing voice, and always told him as much, but the other man was self-conscious about it. So he made do with hearing the snatches of it that slipped out now and then when he was unaware.

‘Would you like to hold him El?’ Tyrell gently held the baby towards him. 

Elliot’s palms started to sweat, and he brought his arms around himself protectively.

‘Um…’ he hesitated, but Tyrell moved towards him with a reassuring smile on his face.

‘Come on, I know he’s dying to meet you,’ he smiled, giving Elliot a teasing wink. This only served to make Elliot more nervous.

Elliot gently held Otto in his arms, and brought one hand up to cup the back of his tiny head. His eyes widened anxiously, and he felt his breath hitch.

‘You’re doing great, don’t worry,’ Tyrell soothed. ‘The first time I held him I was terrified. I’d never really held a baby before and nothing prepares you for the feeling of holding another tiny living person in your arms.’ He smiled at Elliot, and Elliot managed to smile back, slowly releasing the breath he was holding.

Several peaceful minutes passed, and Elliot eventually built the confidence to gently sway from side to side. He glanced over at Tyrell and saw that the older man was looking at him with a strange expression on his face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he whispered, not wanting to wake Otto. 

‘Nothing,’ Tyrell murmured back, but the tears shining in his eyes said differently.


	3. Fear and Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue to Ends and Beginnings. Tyrell’s breakdown is loosely caused by his increasing feelings of guilt over deceiving Elliot.
> 
> This is based on a Tumblr prompt/headcanon that I read... apologies I don't remember whose it was, but I hope you enjoy it!

They’d drunk together plenty of times, but this was probably the first time Elliot had seen Tyrell properly inebriated. This was partly down to the fact that Tyrell could hold his liquor better than Elliot, and partly that Tyrell didn’t really like being drunk. He didn’t like the lack of control, and he never associated excessive alcohol consumption with happy memories. The times he’d been truly wasted had been when he’d been trying to drown his sorrows or calm his nerves. Alcohol had never been a big part of socializing for him; he preferred to talk to people sober. So this was a strange experience for both of them.

They’d started with a bottle of wine over dinner. Afterwards they’d moved over to the couch, where they’d fooled around for the best part of an hour. Their nerves buzzing with a heady mix of lust and alcohol, Elliot dragged Tyrell by the hand back to the kitchen, where he’d poured them both a shot of vodka. One shot became two, and before long they were swigging out of the bottle, kissing messily between gulps and pressing each other clumsily against the counter. Their movements became sloppier, and Elliot smiled against Tyrell’s lips as he kissed him languidly, hands slowly making their way under his shirt. Tyrell breathed out a laugh against Elliot’s neck as he trailed wet kisses from his jaw to his collar bone. There was no real drive to take things any further, they were just lost in what they were doing, and enjoying the cloudy haze of pleasure that had settled over them. 

Pulling back, Elliot took in Tyrell’s disheveled appearance. His hair was all over the place, and his cheeks were flushed. Elliot’s eyes moved hungrily between his shiny, red lips, and his bright, glassy eyes. 

‘You look so sexy,’ Elliot breathed. ‘How did I get so lucky?’

Elliot frowned when Tyrell stiffened.

‘What’s wrong?’ Elliot ducked his head to try and make eye contact with Tyrell, who had his head bowed. 

‘I don’t feel so good,’ he stammered, stepping back to brace himself again the kitchen counter.

‘Okay, it’s alright, let’s sit down, and I’ll get you some water.’

He gently guided Tyrell over to the sofa and sat next to him, keeping enough distance between them so Tyrell could get some air. 

Tyrell’s whole body looked tense, so Elliot reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It was like a hair-trigger reaction, the way Tyrell broke down the second he felt Elliot’s touch. He dissolved into tears, slumping so he was lying with his head in Elliot’s lap.  
Elliot reflexively brought his hand up to run his fingers through Tyrell’s hair, curling his other arm as best he could around Tyrell’s chest and holding him tight. He was completely at a loss as to what was upsetting Tyrell, so he just continued to shush and rock him gently.

Eventually though, it seemed that rather than calming down, Tyrell was getting more worked up, so Elliot tried talking to him.

‘What’s wrong? Talk to me.’

He felt Tyrell shaking his head against his thigh, and heard his breathing pick up. He was drawing in short, gasping breaths, and Elliot realised he was starting to panic. He kicked into gear, remembering things Krista had done when he’d found himself overcome with anxiety in their sessions.

He got Tyrell to sit up and positioned himself on the floor in front of him.

‘Tyrell, breathe with me,’ he said, taking in a deep breath for ten seconds, and releasing it slowly. Tyrell tried to mimic him, but couldn’t seem to manage it.

‘Tell me what you need right now.’

Tyrell didn’t answer, but he reached out for Elliot with his left hand. Elliot grasped it firmly.

‘Ty, what you’re feeling is scary, but I promise you it’s not dangerous.’ Elliot knew first-hand that this was an important fact to realise. In those moments when he'd felt as if a great weight was crushing his chest and squeezing around his heart, it had been crucial to realise that it was just his nervous system misfiring, and nothing more. Elliot knew that though it felt as if you were dying, in reality there was no actual physical ailment to blame. Elliot hoped this realisation would bring Tyrell the same comfort it had him.

Tyrell was starting to calm down, much to Elliot’s relief.

‘There we go, just focus on your breathing.’ He tried to get Tyrell to copy his deep breaths again.

‘You’re doing so well Ty. I’m so proud of you,’ he smiled. Any other time annoyance would have flared inside him, but when Krista had said that to him he really had felt like he was accomplishing something. Rather than being patronising, her praise had made him feel good. 

For some reason though, it seemed to have the opposite effect on Tyrell, and he pulled his hand away from Elliot’s.  
Elliot allowed himself a brief moment of internal panic, being careful not to let it show in his face. He really didn’t know where this had all come from- they’d been so happy only moments before. What had changed for Tyrell? He wished he knew what was going on in the other man’s head.

***

This was one of the many reasons Tyrell didn’t like to get drunk. For Elliot, alcohol calmed his racing thoughts, and the numbness it provided sometimes granted him temporary comfort. For Tyrell however, his thoughts were still there, only his ability to grasp at them was impaired. So he desperately reached out into the sandstorm of his mind, and whenever he did close his fingers around a thought it quickly slipped away again. Alcohol didn’t help him forget, it merely dimmed his focus, and the more and more confused he became, the more frightened he grew also.

There was one thought in particular that kept flitting past him, just out of reach. More a feeling, actually- a feeling of unworthiness. A feeling of shame, and overwhelming guilt. Every time Elliot said something nice to him he was hit by a wave of nausea, and the feeling that he didn’t deserve the kindness he was being shown. He’d been trying for the last few minutes to work out where this feeling was coming from, but his addled mind only offered information in tiny glimmers.

Any time he came close to piecing his thoughts together, the sandstorm blustered through his mind again, and snatched them away. Frustration built and made his nerves itch, like the feeling you might get when trying, and failing, to thread a needle. But mostly, it was fear that swelled inside him. Fear that he’d completely lost the ability to make sense of his own thoughts, and fear that he was utterly alone. No-one, not even Elliot, could see inside his mind and help him understand this. So where did that leave him? Did he just have to sit and watch, powerless, as his mind slipped away from him?

His limbs felt heavy, and his fingertips tingled. He started to feel dizzy, and found himself wishing he’d just pass out- anything to bring him relief from this feeling. Each harsh, shallow gasp brought him one breath closer to gagging, as he felt his stomach lurch, and his throat clench.

He heard Elliot’s voice, like it was coming from far away.

‘This will be over soon. You’re going to get through this. This too shall pass.’

***

Elliot watched as Tyrell slowly seemed to come round. His breathing slowed and his eyelids drooped as the adrenaline left his body. Though still shaking, his body slumped and he suddenly looked drained, exhausted.

‘Can I?’ Elliot asked gently, motioning to the space on the sofa next to Tyrell. The other man just nodded. Tyrell leaned forwards to rest his head in his hands, and Elliot rubbed comforting circles on his back.

‘Do you want to tell me what that was about?’

Tyrell shook his head; he wasn’t sure he could explain, even if he wanted to. He dropped his head back down to rest on Elliot’s legs, and the two of them stayed like this for several long, quiet moments. 

When he'd eventually reclaimed control over his own body Tyrell whispered, 'eventually you'll learn the truth about me, and you won't feel so lucky any more.'

Elliot shivered, he had no idea what Tyrell meant by that. He knew at some point they needed to have a conversation about what had just happened, but as he heard Tyrell's breathing even out he knew that it would not be tonight.

When the morning came however, it was clear that Tyrell didn't want to talk, and for some reason Elliot couldn't seem to bring himself to mind. He had a feeling that whatever Tyrell was holding inside would ruin what they had, and against his better judgement he chose to tamp down his fears in favour of savouring whatever precious time he had left before Tyrell eventually broke his heart.

***

Tyrell knew their relationship wouldn't last, it simply couldn't. The false sense of calm that seemed to have settled over them would eventually be shattered, and Elliot would be gone.

During the day he placed soft, almost hesitant kisses on Elliot's lips, but at night he held him tight, as if afraid that he might not be there in the morning. He tiptoed around Elliot, waiting for the moment when the younger man figured him out, or demanded an explanation for his strange behaviour.

A better man than him wouldn't let Elliot keep pretending that everything was alright. A better man than him would tell Elliot the truth, and spare him the pain of learning it further down the line. 

As the days went by however, his kisses grew bolder, and his slumber more peaceful. He knew their happiness was nothing more than an illusion, but fear and selfishness prevented him from lifting the veil.

He wished he were a better man.


End file.
